All You Have To Say Is Yes
by unorthodoxexperiences
Summary: All You Have To Say Is Yes. What if Frollo's visit to Esmerelda had gone differently, or Esmerelda had seen things differently sooner? Based on the French musical Notre Dame de Paris (2001). I'd love feedback! Frollo/Esmerelda, Fresme
1. Chapter 1

Frollo was almost insane from the whirl of feelings inside of him. There were too many feelings, too many conflicts. He could barely conduct mass, he was so distracted. Truth be told he wasn't sure how to proceed; the gipsy was now in the dungeon, and had just admitted she loved Phoebus and may or may not have had a hand in his stabbing. Watching her confess her love was painful. Her almost-confession to something she hadn't even done, and the methods they used to extract her confession (especially considering _he_ was actually the attempted-murderer) were heart-breaking. How could he?

Frollo didn't _want_ to hurt people. He had never thought of himself as capable of that sort of thing. Lately it seemed as though a dormant part of himself had been awoken; some concealed, completely different man to the docile intellectual he had been for so many years had taken up residence in his mind, and he had no idea how to cope with it, or control it. Frankly, he was scaring himself. Yet he couldn't guide his own hand. It was embarrassing, and reducing him to a pile of nerves.

In any case he had decided tonight was the night he was going to confront Esmerelda about what he wanted more than anything. His lust was such that he got riled up just thinking about her and what he wanted to do. It was pitiful, really, and every time a hormonal wave engulfed him the ensuing shame was immense. Which was often, or so it felt.

Night fell, and after finishing up with his daily duties he made his way down to the dungeon where the condemned girl lay curled up in a cold, dark cell. Guilt hit him when he saw how pale she was compared to usual. All the life of the once musical, vibrant girl had been absorbed by the grey stone walls. Building resolve, Frollo stepped into the cell.

"I'm the priest here to prepare you for your hanging."

"I'm cold, and hungry. I haven't harmed anyone. Please, just let me go."

"You've been sentenced to death. By morning, you'll be up on the gallows…"

Originally he had hoped to quell his urges by ridding himself of her, but when he voiced her imminent death aloud he suddenly thought that perhaps his desire would outlive her if she died, and he instantly regretted setting everything up the way he had. Was this problem robbing him of his reason as well as his self control? Oh dear. Well, all he could do was roll with the punches now.

"Come morning, I'll be fine. Phoebus will come for me." The spitting tone in Esmerelda's voice snapped something in Frollo. He cursed his own weakness, but couldn't fight the mix of negative emotions stirring within him.

"We'll see who comes for who when you're strung up." Frollo said bitterly.

"What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?!" Esmerelda shrieked desperately, trying to understand why this man held so much spite for her.

The floodgates had been opened. All of Frollo's pent up thoughts came spilling out.

"One morning, you were dancing in the square with the sun hitting you _just_ so. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. I remember it so vividly – a shiver went up my spine, my whole body was overwhelmed. Every day since then I've seen the devil in the mirror instead of my own face. All I want is some happiness, some bliss… I've come with an offer for you. My bed or the gallows. I can get you out of here, all you have to do is say yes. Accept and I guarantee you'll be returned to your gipsy friends just after. I know you're waiting for Phoebus, but he's engaged to someone very wealthy and he couldn't appreciate you for what you are, he's too used to having whomever he wants. Please, please…"

Esmerelda stood, shocked and upset.

"Phoebus… is… engaged? To who? He never told me this! You must be lying!"

"No, no, I'm not lying. In fact his fiancée Fleurs-de-Lys visited me a week ago to discuss the wedding preparations. They're taking things slow to be sure, but it _will_ happen. And come now, Esmerelda... How long did you know him? Be rational. He hadn't _time_ to tell you everything, and it definitely wasn't in his best interest to do so."

It was all Esmerelda could do not to cry. The love of her life, engaged? He had chosen someone else? He wasn't going to come for her. It dawned on her that she may never have even had a chance.

"Please. Say you will. We can both profit from this. You were willing for him, without even ever having gotten to know him – what makes me so different? Looks? I don't understand. Can't you see how much I want this, how much I need this? What do you have to lose? You'll die tomorrow! And I've realized I don't want that to happen. Please."

Frollo was close, so close, to shedding a tear or two. Frustration had started to accumulate inside him, and Esmerelda hadn't answered, hadn't even rejected him outright. Poor girl was probably in shock. It just wasn't fair. Some people had all the luck in this world, and Phoebus was definitely one of them. Man had probably slept with any girl that caught his eye, and he had little to offer, as far as Frollo was concerned.

Meanwhile Esmerelda was still processing the news that had hit her ears. Honestly, aside from trying to manipulate her into agreeing, he had little reason to lie to her about Phoebus's engagement, and of all people he would know about who was going to tie the knot. It was so upsetting… Suddenly defeat and depression washed over her, and she couldn't force herself to care anymore. If Phoebus had chosen someone else, the battle was lost.

"Okay. I accept."

Frollo was buried so deeply in his own nervous thoughts that he almost didn't register the meaning of her words. His head snapped in her direction when she spoke.

"You – wait, what? You accept?"

Esmerelda simply nodded and stood up, looking at Frollo directly. Her eyes had lost the fire that she had while talking to him even if she was in the poorest of health.

"Lead the way."

"Just to be clear, once you lie with me, you are free to go, but not until then."

Esmerelda nodded, then looked to him expectantly.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. What an amazing and unpredictable turn of events. Frollo was practically glued to the spot, but he forced his feet to move over the rough stone floor. Esmerelda followed closely behind, walking apathetically behind him.

It didn't feel right. Honestly, nothing about any of this felt right, but this part in particular… Something about it had Frollo in a state that he was uncomfortable with, even though he had already defied his own values more than once during this crazy course of events.

They reached his rooms at last, and Frollo set to lighting candles so they could see. Secretly he was biding time, not quite believing what was about to happen.

How to proceed? He had no experience in these matters and despite her lowly upbringing he suspected she didn't either. On top of that, he wasn't entirely sure he was quite as 'in the mood' as he was earlier. Something about having her in front of him drove him crazy but also heightened his own internal barriers towards acting upon it.

His chambers were simply but luxuriously decorated. In terms of furniture, he had a bed, side tables, chest, drawers, as well as a desk and chair and numerous bookshelves. The blankets were heavy, the sheets were clean. All of the furniture was elegant but also useful. Books were strewn everywhere and candle wax was dripping down all of the candle fixtures from long nighttime readings. He had often stayed up into the early hours, engrossed in some book or other.

_Does Esmerelda read? Probably not, she was raised in the street. Does it matter? Maybe it does. It feels like it does, for some reason._

"So? Shall we begin?" Esmerelda asked clinically.

"Oh. Yes, I suppose."

Beginning was more awkward and difficult than he would've thought. Frollo drew near to her, and put his hands on her hips, slowly preparing to kiss her. He decided to start by hugging her and smelling her neck. The thought of kissing overwhelmed him and he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet, despite yearning for it for so long. Esmerelda shut her eyes and shuddered slightly at the alien touch, but allowed herself to be handled.

_Oh, good Lord. How can I be doing this? The poor thing is practically a child compared to me. I never thought I'd need this, ever. Why me, why now? God above, have You forsaken me? Is this a test? I have devoted my life to You, what more do You want from me? This torture is too much._

Suddenly panic engulfed him as he realized the gravity of the situation. He couldn't go through with this, not yet. Maybe not ever. Was the fact this was happening to him more upsetting, or the fact he couldn't even act on it given the chance? Time to clear his head.

"I-I—You—Stay here. Don't forget you're only free to go once the deal has been fulfilled."

And with that, Frollo left the room and shut the door, leaving a confused and wary Esmerelda alone with her thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Esmerelda had no idea what was going on. First she's in love with Phoebus, waiting for him to valiantly rescue her. Then she discovers he's been engaged the whole time, and she's being whisked away to be bedded by a priest. What happened to her life? Her parents would be ashamed. _Clopin_ would be ashamed, and furious, and probably say he had told her so. Or maybe he would be sad for her, and glad she was okay.

She didn't know, her head was in a spin. Would Quasimodo be willing to save her from this, or would even he be put off by her role in this entire situation?

_Why can't things just work out?_

She had followed Frollo lifelessly to his chambers and waited for him to devour her ravenously. It was obvious he wanted to; she saw the way he looked at her furtively, hunger in his eyes. When had that started? She couldn't remember. It just had, and she hadn't noticed, naïve girl.

The will to resist it had simply left when she realized Phoebus wanted someone else more than her. That she had been a toy, played with, and discarded. Stupid Fleur-de-Lys.

Frollo drew close to her and put his hands on her waist. Slowly, slowly, he started to kiss her, and then went for a hug instead.

_What is he doing?_

He inhaled deeply while his head was nestled in the crook of her neck, holding the position for a few seconds. Then he stiffened up and let her go.

"I-I—You—Stay here. Don't forget you're only free to go once the deal has been fulfilled."

For a second, she didn't understand what he was saying. She closed her eyes and waited for him to come embrace her again, but heard the door click shut instead, rapid footsteps receding.

He had left her. Alone. In his room. Didn't he realize she could just walk out? Coercion didn't have to be honored, did it?

_Maybe I should leave. Probably should. Then again, it's not like I'm going to run out there into Phoebus's arms. Where would I go, what would I do? Clopin will have questions, and I don't even want to dance, anymore. _

Besides, just because her life was in shambles didn't mean she had to become a liar. A deal was a deal, she supposed. He'd probably be back later to finish off what he started. She smiled bitterly to herself. What a situation.

She bided her time and waited for Frollo to return. The hours dragged on, even though there were a lot of little interesting things to look at in his room. She wanted nothing more than to open all the drawers and pull books off the shelves to see what was inside, but it seemed like an invasion of his privacy, which bizarrely felt wrong to her even after all he had done.

_What is he doing? He seemed so keen. Did he possibly change his mind? It couldn't be. He's been after this for far too long. Didn't cause a ruckus to let his prey go._

Something had obviously changed in him from the time he came to her cell to the time they were in his room, but she wasn't sure what.

_A curse on men and their desires. I hope he hurries, whatever he's doing. I'm so bored, and tired. I'll just close my eyes until he comes back…_

Sunrise had come before Frollo returned: with breakfast. Esmerelda heard a commotion and opened her eyes groggily, wiping away the sleep before remembering where she was and why. Something smelled good.

Frollo hadn't slept at all, which was painfully obvious to her. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a bit messy-looking. Same clothes and all. His eyelids were drooping, and he was stifling a yawn.

"Here is breakfast. Feel free to roam about during the day, but do not leave the confines of Notre Dame. We shall fulfill the deal later. I have business to attend to."

Annoyance poked at Esmerelda. What was he waiting for? Prolonging the agony wasn't going to help either of them, and what was the point of it anyway? Maybe he _was_ having second thoughts, which was secretly a bit hurtful to Esmerelda. He didn't want her. Apparently no one did.

"What kind of business?"

"I have responsibilities." He answered, without looking at her.

She ate quietly, keeping her eyes down, and laid back down after she was finished, staring at the ceiling. Everything she thought she knew had just been destroyed, and she definitely needed time to think everything over.

_If Phoebus doesn't want me, why did he pretend he did? How was I supposed to know? No one tried to warn me, except Clopin, and that was just a general statement about love being dangerous or something. Do I really love him? It sure feels like I do. I'm not sure how this feeling could be anything else, it's very distinct. It must be love, I'm sure of it. I get butterflies whenever I see him. It seemed like he liked me, did I misread the signs? Why is this all so complicated?_

Most of her day was spent in bed. Frollo basically left her alone, but brought her lunch and dinner, which was nice of him, considering…

_Whatever. He owes me that much. For both the past and the future._

Night fell, and she waited for him to come claim her half of the deal. She waited, and waited, and waited. Minutes, hours. 9 turned into 10, which turned into 11…

_What does he even do all day? Being a priest can't be that difficult. He's got to know the sermons and vows inside and out by now. I'm surprised how quiet this room is, I didn't even notice the bells if they rang. I'll just close my eyes again, until he wakes me up._

With that last thought, Esmerelda fell asleep at midnight, and slept undisturbed until the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Frollo spent almost the entire night wandering the cathedral, thinking about Esmerelda and what he was going to do with her.

_I can't just _bed_ her, even though I want that more than anything. It's hard enough touching her, and it's all different when she's _there_. Then it's not just me, it's her too, and… I just can't. Such a waste of all that effort. What am I going to do? If I let her go I may never see her again. She could tell people about this, which I could easily dispel, but still… A scandal would be horrible. And what if people actually believed her?_

Burying his head in his hands, he sat down on one of the pews in the cavernous room where mass was held. There was no one around. Only a couple candles were still burning, creating a dark and ominous stone hall. To keep busy, he set to work replacing some of the candles that had burned all the way down. He felt extremely fidgety. Since he was up and about anyway, he also decided to straighten the table runners at the head table a few times. They'd be ready for communion, no problem.

_Just like this new me to leave her in my room with all my books and belongings. Good Lord, I'm losing all my sense._

He almost laughed when he considered how his life had led him here. Of all things, he never would have been able to guess as a young adult that a _woman_ would eventually be his downfall. He had successfully spurned all female attention for almost thirty years - how was it even possible to reignite that fire after almost two decades of not even noticing it? It was a most unfortunate situation.

_What am I going to do?_

So many things were tugging at him in different directions. The fact his true loves, science and religion, had turned so violently against him was hurtful. He'd always considered himself steadfast and strong. A force, almost of nature, to be reckoned with. Now here he was, falling prey to the afflictions of common men. Oh, but Esmerelda was beautiful...

He thought again of how uneasy he felt about Esmerelda's mental capacities. It made sense to him that she would be illiterate, perhaps even ill-mannered compared to the people he preferred to associate with. That it bugged him, especially when all he had arranged to do was take her, confused him.

Walking absent-mindedly around a corner, Frollo ran harshly into a block of wood and fell to the ground - only to find it was Quasimodo, out and about. The solid hunchback helped him up quickly, fussing.

"I'm sorry, master. Are you okay, master? Forgive me, master."

"What are you doing up at this unholy hour?" Frollo demanded.

"Pardon me, master. I couldn't sleep, and, well... I thought maybe the gipsy needed feeding or a blanket. The night is chilly - I can feel it in the towers."

"You were going to see the gipsy? What did I tell you about her?" Frollo was stuck between shock and rage.

"I... I... That she's a creature of sin, master." Quasimodo's panic was palpable. His face contorted in fear, and he backed up slightly from Frollo.

Frollo considered his power over his... Son? Lackey? He wasn't entirely sure what Quasimodo was supposed to be.

Do I make people feel this way? Fearful and uncomfortable? I'm supposed to be a calming vessel of God!  
Pangs of sorrow and dread were nagging at Frollo now. He'd never felt this way before - especially about such an insignificant interaction between him and Quasimodo. Had these interactions been significant the entire time? Quasimodo was also closer to Esmerelda than he liked. Disgruntled, Frollo ordered Quasimodo to bed.

"I'll take care of the gipsy, if you're so worried." He resolved to treat her as kindly as a guest ought to be treated until they fulfilled their deal. Maybe that would warm her up to him. Quasimodo went back to bed, disheartened and ruffled from the close encounter with his adoptive father.

Later in the day, after more distracted pacing, Frollo decided it was probably time to deliver Esmerelda a meal. He made a simple breakfast. It smelled excellent. He ate, prepared a serving for Esmerelda, and then went slowly back to his chambers. As he walked in he noted with mild surprise that she was still there. He had thought she might run away while he was roaming the cathedral. And she hadn't. Huh.

Esmerelda slowly woke up, rubbing her eyes. She was a bit messy, but still beautiful as far as Frollo was concerned. He stared at her, even as she took him in. His throat went dry. The night was catching up to him, and he tried not to yawn.

"Here is breakfast. Feel free to roam about during the day, but do not leave the confines of Notre Dame. We shall fulfill the deal later. I have business to attend to."

For a second, Esmerelda actually looked irked. Frollo wasn't sure whether or not he was misinterpreting her - but he was surprised to pick up on a reaction like that at all. Did she _want_ this? Or was she just angry at being kept a prisoner? Probably the latter.

"What kind of business?" Esmerelda asked, with an edge.

Looking away, Frollo grumbled back, "I have responsibilities."

There was a lot to do to keep the cathedral going. He had a marriage and a funeral to do services for, as well as rites to read for some poor deceased souls that couldn't afford more than passage into heaven. Other than that, there were endless candles and torches to ensure were burning and replenished come evening, as well as communion to run that day, which meant purchasing bread and preparing enough bottles of wine...

Frollo left Esmerelda to eat her breakfast and set to work, which felt strange with this episode going on in the background. Still, it was a welcome distraction. He brought her lunch and dinner, but found himself increasingly conflicted as the end of the day neared. Apprehension overtook him. Walking to his room, he found himself going straight past the door... Again. And again.

_My sleeping situation is rather abysmal as of late. I can't leave her in there forever... One more night won't hurt, though._

And with that last thought, he went off to pace the halls once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Esmerelda spent the better part of the morning rolling around on Frollo's bed. The sheets and mattress were much more comfortable than any makeshift mat she'd ever slept on, and the regular meals were an added luxury. It wasn't as exciting as the outside world, and she did miss her friends, but at least for now it was almost a welcome change. There was so much to think about - it turns out quiet time was _exactly_ what she needed.

_While I'm here, I'm going to enjoy the little things as much as I can._

Later on she started to feel like she needed to limber up, so she got up and straightened herself out as best she could without her wooden brush (a gift from Clopin when she turned 13).

She didn't much like the idea of being trapped inside, but before she left the confines of the room to roam the cathedral she wanted to... well, not _snoop_, but she _did_ wonder what Frollo read at night, and what trinkets he might keep in his private space. Who was this crazy priest? What did he _do_ that made him so unstable?

_Oh, who am I kidding. I want to snoop._

Carefully, she picked up and examined one of the books on his shelves. She knew a few of her letters and words because they were useful when traders and travelers came to town. Sometimes bottles and bags had labels that she recognized simply because she saw them so often, but could she read all texts swiftly and accurately? No. Especially not Frollo's. There were words in them she thought might be imaginary.

_Ugh. I should have learned more. How does he _read_ this stuff? Are these decorative, perhaps? They look like awfully expensive decorations. I wonder what stories they are trying to tell._

Most of the books were large and bound in adorned leather. There was _way_ too much going on inside them - page after page of tight script - and some words were larger than her field of focus! Voicing the ideas didn't seem like it should be a difficult task, so she tried reading some text out loud, and was surprised how difficult it actually was to form the words. Clearly she hadn't had much practice narrating, and she was borderline embarrassed, despite being alone. Books as magnificent as these seemed to demand that their readers possess great reading skill to deserve access to their contents. Skill she clearly lacked.

Eventually giving up on the books, she focused on the items. There were some small figurines making up the nativity scene. They looked like they were made of porcelain, and were nicely painted. She thought she had seen a set like that in one of the market stalls from a travelling caravan a few years back. She'd never seen Frollo at the markets that she could remember - he seemed too haughty to mix with the common folk in such a setting. He must have been there, though, to buy them... right?

Moving on, there were a couple sets of rosaries made from beautifully colored polished beads. The crosses were carved intricately from stones of corresponding colors. A small book that said "Bible" on the front was sitting under them. Its pages were made of paper so thin, she could scarcely believe it would be handled without tearing.

There was a beautiful rock that had been split open to reveal purple crystals on one shelf, that she spent almost 15 minutes gazing at and appreciating. It was surrounded by other small rocks and minerals, none of which she definitively knew the names of. There was a very black one she thought might be called obsidian or onyx, but she couldn't confirm it. Some were glittery and rough, others were very smooth with colors marbled through them. One was a myriad of rainbows and had a mystical appeal - opal? She thought she'd heard a mystic discussing such a stone in her tent once as a child.

On the desk sat a small hand-painted image of two people in a frame. A debate sprung up in her mind. She thought the honest-looking people with serious, mannered expressions in it might be his parents. But Frollo didn't have _parents._ Well, he obviously had parents. But still. Mind blanking, she stared at the small faces. Frollo. A family? She had never even thought of it before! He would have had parents... siblings, even. How had he grown up, she wondered... the oldest of seven? An only child?

_He seems like an only child to me. But he can't have been... would they let their only child become a priest? The family name would end, wouldn't it? Priests can't..._

Esmerelda struggled to understand her own feelings of pity and sadness. To never have a family was... tragic. There was no way anyone would choose the life of a priest, would they? What could compel someone to such a lonesome fate? Surely he was forced into it. Surely.

_Priests can't do a _lot_ of things. But a wife and children are definitely out of the picture for him. I wonder if he ever regrets his life. And he's so old! Well, pretty old. I think. How old even is Frollo? How do I not know this? Quasimodo must have mentioned at some point._

Even if he had mentioned, though, she probably wouldn't have remembered. She never thought of Frollo as a person; he always seemed too inhumanly evil. Her more mature self (when had _that_ started?) was revisiting that notion. Maybe the real problem was that he was _too_ human, taking on divine responsibility but still subject to human emotions and desires... she assumed he had feelings and desires. He obviously had desires, at least.

After taking a moment to reflect on all these new unsettling musings, Esmerelda decided it was time to leave the room and see what the cathedral had in store. The door was heavy but she had regained some of her fitness and strength after eating and resting well, so pushing it open wasn't _too_ hard.

She'd never spent much time in the cathedral before. She didn't believe in God the way Frollo did, although she didn't _not_ believe in... something. What? Impossible to say. Not to mention, the gypsies weren't welcome in Notre Dame. It was frequented either by higher-class folk, or the destitute seeking asylum.

While walking around a corner, lost in thought, she bumped into someone wearing a robe with a wooden rosary around their neck, knocking her dress askew and jerking her already frazzled-looking hair.

"Oh - I'm sorry!"

"Quite alright, my child. Are you searching for something? Perhaps confession?"

The implications of his suggestion almost made her bow her head in surprise and embarrassment, but instead she straightened her dress, smiled nicely and said "I'm just discovering this most impressive house of worship. But you're a priest, right? I didn't know there was more than one here. I've only ever met Father Frollo - he conducts quite a mass."

_Father Frollo? Father feels strange on my tongue. I assume he conducts mass... I hope I haven't screwed this up! I didn't know there were others... Why would he even let me wander if he knew I might run into them? I could easily spread rumors, and cause all sorts of trouble. It's almost like he has no idea what he's doing..._

Esmerelda mouth fell open slightly as she realized the evil mastermind she'd been tangling with might not have been as much of a mastermind as she thought all this time.

"Ah, yes. There's quite a lot to do, and the space and resources of such a cathedral are sought after by many men of devotion. Claude Frollo has been here for quite a long time. He has been troubled lately - may our prayers be with him."

_Troubled? He's been snapping for this for months! How could it be _bothersome_? Sermons... I should attend one sometime. I bet _that_ level of discomfort would make him think twice about enforcing our "deal"._

"But father, what has been troubling him? It's worrying to see a worker of God so anxious."

The priest's features softened and grew weary. "Ah, child. Few of us, priests included, encounter the opportunity to know Frollo's thoughts. He has been a most devout and learned man since you were but a lively child. I'm certain he can weather the storm. No need to concern yourself - it will run its course, as all things do."

A certain sadness had set its roots faintly within Esmerelda's mind. Here she was again being told she was but a passing fad in men's hearts. Phoebus. Frollo. Would even Quasimodo tire of her company? She had never felt so alone.

"How old _is_ he?"

The priest laughed lightly and said "I believe thirty-six, although his mind and soul are certainly much older."

After thanking the priest and apologizing once again for crashing into him, Esmerelda continued wandering the halls. Feeling rather contemplative, she went to sit in the stained glass hall. Lone praying citizens were here and there. It was already late in the day - how quickly time was passing as of late. She just had so much to think about!

Notre Dame itself was a lot larger than Esmerelda had figured. This was probably because the main hall was so large. It seemed like just one room, but its length and width allowed there to be numerous smaller rooms and hallways surrounding and stemming from it. There were all sorts of nooks and crannies that were easy to miss if you didn't stop to look. She thought overall it wasn't such a bad place to be, but it was still confining with its stone walls and cold statues.

She allowed herself to be surprised again about the fact she was allowed to be wander. So many things could go wrong for both her and Frollo. The entire day had ignited a curiosity in her about him, though. What _exactly_ did he want? If it was only pleasure he should have taken it by now. Yet he'd never mentioned or expressed anything other than untempered lust until the day he had taken her here. Not to mention, he'd had a good twenty years to experience such joys and he'd spurned the opportunities. What changed? She wondered briefly if he truly didn't know what he was doing. It seemed that way.

After more wandering and thinking, Esmerelda decided to make her way back to Frollo's room. Only to find she was lost. It took a good half hour of walking and doubling back to figure out where she was. She didn't want to open random doors in case they were the wrong ones... but then, some thirty yards away, she saw Frollo stop in front of a door, and pace. He wrung his hands and eventually laid his forehead against it, and after drawing himself up with determination, stepped inside.

Esmerelda smiled to herself playfully. She hadn't heard anything, but she'd _seen_ his internal thoughts, if even for a moment. His nervousness towards her was almost endearing, and a habit she'd never been able to witness before her time in the church. She quietly padded over to the door she had seen him enter. As she neared she heard violent muttering. Quieting, she pressed her ear to the wooden door to see if she could make out what he was saying to himself.

"Of course sh... How could I... Now I... UUGGGHHHH!"

This last distressed cry was concerning, so she slowly opened the door and stepped into the chambers. Frollo was sprawled on his stomach over his bed, face in his pillow and arms limply lying on the mattress.

She stood for some time, waiting for him to rise or look around. Losing her patience, she slowly approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it, watching Frollo intently. If he moved suddenly to grab her she was prepared to jump away and maybe even escape the room. After a long silence that seemed to drag on and on, she nudged him. He didn't move.

She nudged him again. Nothing.

_Oh, my God._

She nudged him more violently, and he slumped a bit, but still remained immobile. She quickly got up and went to the other side of the bed, heart rate increasing. She searched his face for signs of life. To her relief he was still breathing. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly agape.

_He's... He's asleep._

At this realization she felt a rush and had to stop herself from laughing. Recovering, she considered the situation. Unsure what to do, she stared at his sleeping form. The serious creases in his brow were gone. There were a couple faint streaks on his cheek, perhaps from tears. His worry hadn't completely vanished, but it had decreased immensely.

_Even in sleep, he can't fully relax. He must be used to having very weighty responsibilities._

Pity once again washed over Esmerelda. He looked uncomfortable, limbs askew, thrown onto the mattress - he'd obviously been overtaken by long, hard days, and longer sleepless nights. She _had_ been dominating his oh-so-comfortable bed.

Gingerly lifting him, she tried to drag him up to the right side of the bed, and put him on his side.

_Men are always so HEAVY. I always assumed he'd be waifish under those robes of his. Ugh. At least he's a sound sleeper._

She wasn't going to try to change him into nightclothes. That would be going a bit far. She pulled his blanket over him as best she could. After more effort she finally got him more or less lying normally on the bed. Appraising her work, she then ran into a small dilemma.

_Where am I going to sleep? He's actually _here_ tonight. Well, I'm not going to go walk into peoples' rooms trying to find an empty one in the middle of the night. And he's already asleep, really, so I guess I'll just..._

Trying not to wake the sleeping priest, she snuck between the sheets on the other side of the bed.

_Ahhhhhhhh. A real bed. Bliss. Who knew?_

She could hear Frollo's steady breathing a few feet away from her. It felt strange, having him there. Here was a man who had pursued her ravenously, and coerced her into the promise of sexual favors. Who had then completely rejected the favors he had tried so hard to procure. In the back of her mind she knew he could wake up and do very well anything to her. Hurt her. Rape her. Kill her. Somehow, she didn't think he would. He hadn't really done _anything_ to her so far. Not even fulfill the deal they'd struck. Just fed her. And acted disgruntled by her existence. Hmm.

Her thoughts started to wander to Phoebus, but it was just too painful. He was so... beautiful. Like a flame. Captivating, but she'd gotten too close and been burned. The mysterious priest was proving a welcome distraction from the fact she'd been utterly used. Her grief turned easily into pained anger, though.

_How could I be so_ stupid_? I _will_ see Phoebus again. And when I do I _will_ give him a piece of my mind._

With that most satisfying thought of justice yet to come, she fell into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
